


International Small Arms Traffic Blues

by orphan_account



Series: Tallahassee [2]
Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: M/M, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-13
Updated: 2016-07-13
Packaged: 2018-07-23 17:31:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7473279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>They’re supposed to change on this trip, dammit. They’re supposed to be different out here on the road.</i>
</p><p> </p><p>Mac and Dennis hit the road, and it doesn't take long for conflict to catch up to them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	International Small Arms Traffic Blues

They hit rural Pennsylvania several hours after suffering through the ugly unending traffic of Philadelphia and Harrisburg. Dennis’s rage subsides when the countryside turns clear and the number of cars trickles down to a reasonable amount for a highway. Mac stops fiddling with the air conditioner and the sound of the music as Dennis quiets. He rolls down the window and sticks his head out of it like a happy dog, breathing the fresh air that neither of them knew they needed. Dennis turns down the air conditioning instead of bitching about how Mac is wasting it ( _change_ , he reminds himself for the umpteenth time), and focuses on his clear lungs, in and out, in and out. The mountains rise over the horizon in a haze of grey, like a mirage. Mac pulls his beer out of the cupholder, drains it, and shakes the can.

“Ah shit. I’m out. Gimme some of yours,” he says, already reaching for Dennis’s can. Dennis swats his hand away.

“Absolutely not.”

Mac scoffs and throws his can out the window. “We’re gonna have to pull over then because I’m not doing this trip sober.”

Dennis grips the steering wheel tighter. “Mac, have you been looking at the road signs at all? There is not another real town anywhere nearby.”

“I didn’t say you had to pull over in a town,” says Mac, squinting over his shoulder at the landscape. “There’s lots of places by the side of the road that you can pull over.”

Dennis rolls his eyes. “Over the median doesn’t count as a place to stop unless your car is on fire. I’m not putting on my hazards and risking being run into the ditch from a gust of wind made by an asshole trucker just so you can get a beer can you could’ve gotten in the first place.”

“Fine,” says Mac, unbuckling his seatbelt. “I’ll just go get it right now.”

He hoists himself up from his seat and starts crawling into the back.

“Jesus Christ, Mac!” shouts Dennis, grabbing his wrist. “Are you twelve?”

“Are you?” Mac retorts, still not getting in his seat.

“I’m not the one getting out of my seat in the middle of the goddamn highway to go get something from the trunk!” His heart is pounding now and he feels it, the deep fury he tries to bury. They’re supposed to change on this trip, dammit. They’re supposed to be _different_ out here on the road. His brain is heading towards dangerous whiteout rage territory when he distantly hears Mac shout, “If you just pulled over we wouldn’t have this problem!”

“Fine!” Dennis screams as he suddenly swerves the car over the median. The unholy deep screech of the wheels over the ‘don’t drive here’ raised bumps on the side of the road seems deafening. Mac white knuckles his seat as Dennis forcefully puts the car in park and turns off the ignition. He puts on his hazards and throws the keys into Mac’s lap. Before Mac can ask what’s going on, Dennis shoves the car door open and says, “I’m leaving! Have fun at Mount Rushmore.”

He slams the door behind him and marches away into the ditch with his fists clenched. Behind him, he hears a door open and then slam shut.

“What the hell? Where are you going?” Mac shouts.

“Philadelphia!” Dennis shouts back.

Mac laughs. “Are you planning on walking there? You’re not even going in the right direction!”

“Go fuck yourself, Mac!” he says, flipping the bird behind him. “I don’t need your help!”

He stumbles over his flip-flops as he walks down the incline of the ditch, and Mac cries with an infuriatingly amused tone, “I really think you do! Your shoe almost fell off!”

Dennis takes off his shoes and holds them in the air above his head. “I’ll be faster without shoes anyway!”

Entirely untrue –the gravel and grass of the soil are extremely painful on his feet and removing his shoes slows his movement, if anything. Goddamn it.

Mac groans. “Dennis. This is bullshit. Come on, dude. Come back.”

Dennis stops, and rests his hand in his palm. This isn’t going according to plan. He’s punishing himself while Mac laughs at him – the complete opposite of what was supposed to happen. Dennis pivots on his heel, and marches back to the car. He stands in front of Mac, folds his arms, holds out his free hand and says, “Keys.”

Mac drops the keys into his hand, and Dennis clenches his fist around them. The sharp corners of the keys press into his hand painfully. His brain clears and he remembers – _change_. Mac will get the memo soon that they don’t need to be this way outside of Philadelphia. They’re just not far away yet for it to have sunk in.

“How many beers do you think we need for up front?” says Mac with his head buried in the trunk. “I was thinking four will probably take us to the next rest stop.”

“I don’t give a shit,” says Dennis. He walks around the side of the car, and climbs into the front seat. His flip flops are filthy, so he slaps a hand against them outside the door. He’ll have to get new ones when they stop again. _Great_.

Mac gets in the passenger seat, arms filled with four cans. He places two on the ground, and one in the cupholder. The fourth he places in Dennis’s lap.

“I figured you might wanna toss yours because it’s all warm,” he says, wrinkling his nose.

Dennis picks up his other can from the cupholder, and feels up the bottom for temperature. “Yeah, it’s warm as shit. Good call.” He rolls down the window, and tosses it onto the road. Dennis buckles his seatbelt, and then opens his new beer. Mac picks up the CD case and begins rifling through it.

“Bowie?” he says, flipping through the CDs.

Dennis raises his eyebrows. Glam rock as a peace offering is akin to self-flagellation for Mac. He could make Mac suffer, or –

“Beach Boys,” he answers nonchalantly. Mac’s face lights up.

“Pet Sounds?” asks Mac.

“You know it,” says Dennis before taking a long sip of his beer. Mac slips the CD in.

_“Wouldn’t it be nice if we were older? Then we wouldn’t have to wait so long –”_

This is progress.


End file.
